Tuesday, 3 June 2014


Her teeth are crooked skylines of a forgotten city,
Against the summer sun
That goes down and doused in shadows,
All is quiet.

In my mind, there are only mirrors.
And every photo is black and white.
When she smiles,
The colours return.

I put the lamp away and put myself on fire
Things that burn are hard to reach
That is why her eyes stray
Seeking cold shades and warm shelters
Unlike my arms, charred and red
From holding you.

All my paper crowns are ashes
And the empty banks are flooded
With tales of the old.
So by the sleeve of an old sweater,
By the base of a broken tower,
By the loom of this forgotten craft,
By the by
I make myself anew
Out of the cities of you.

And the tired sun rises and settles
In her eyes of fire
Eyes of gold
But inside me, there are only
Mirrors upon
With no reflection.

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